Jack Frost Nipping At Your Nose
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your nose
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir
And folks dressed up like eskimos...
You'd think I'd listened to The Christmas Song while writing this, but honestly I listened to the Theme from Edward Scissorhands over and over (the five minute- forty second one). It sounds almost exactly how I'd imagine the wonder in Marie's mind when she comes across Jack Frost.
Characters are based off of real people. Just look up James Graham, 3rd Duke of Montrose! I love aligning my stories with history. Enjoy!
January 1790 - Scotland
Marie squirmed as her mother tightened her corset. "Don't make me wear this thing; I hate it."
"Hush, child. You'll glitter like Tavernier's diamond when I'm through with you."
Marie's light brown ringlets fell across her shoulders, and her gray eyes glittered with indignation. "I could care less about the Duke of Montrose. He's nothing but a pompous, old…"
"Caroline Marie, hold your tongue," her mother hissed.
"But mama—" Marie begged, "—He's thirty-one – that's nearly twice my age!"
"Aye, and ye ought to be shamed for not having a husband yet. Now hold still for just a moment." Her mother laced a deep blue dress and cloak on her daughter and sighed, "There now. Ye look like a princess of winter."
Marie pursed her lips. "Stop kissing my nose, mama! You know I can't stand it."
"Aye, you're getting too old for it I suppose. But ye shant keep your mama from trying to hold on to her little wean just a bit longer."
Marie exited the house in resolute silence by her mother's side, making her way steadily toward the town square.
Jack Frost was having a time rousing a snowball fight amongst the young children when a girl with long brown curls and sad gray eyes walked past.
"Marie – build a snowman with us?" A young boy called to her hopefully.
The young woman smirked at the boy. "I can't now, Phillip, but perhaps later?"
The girl's mother tugged on her arm, and she strode away desolately.
"Hmm," Jack mused to himself. "I wonder what they're up to."
He let a chilly breeze carry him to a rooftop, and he leapt from house to house until he'd reached the square.
"Oh that's right. Another Duke..." A flurry of mischievous thoughts fluttered through Jack's mind. "Perhaps someone should give him a welcome greeting," he grinned slyly.
"Make way for James, Duke of Montrose," one of the servants shouted to clear the way.
Marie held her breath as the coach passed, and she exhaled in relief. He hadn't spotted her.
Just then a snowball flew past her shoulder and hit the Duke squarely on the jaw. Marie gasped and looked behind her, but there was no one in sight. Oh no, she lamented. The Duke would surely believe it was her.
The coach halted, and the Duke conspicuously flicked the melting snow from his face, turning to gaze directly at Marie.
Thinking fast on her feet, Marie curtseyed low. "I beg your pardon, my Lord. I mistook your fair smile as one that would appreciate such – amusement." Her face flushed a deep scarlet as the Duke dismounted the carriage.
The Duke stepped directly in front of Marie. "And you, my lady, do you appreciate such amusements?"
Before she could answer a second snowball flew out of the crowd, pelting Marie in the nose. "Ah!" Marie cried out in exuberant surprise. "To be honest, Duke—" she couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "—Yes, I like it very much." Something about the snow seemed to open her eyes, and for a moment the world seemed weightless.
The Duke began to laugh and took Marie's hand. "I should like to call on you. At which house do you reside?"
His request jolted Marie back to reality. He was so old… though admittedly not at all as pompous as she had previously accused. "The – the house of Montagu, my Lord. I am Lady Marie."
He kissed her hand and nodded. "Good day then – Marie."
Her mother beamed proudly at the turn of events, but Marie felt as cold as ice.
Jack felt very smug with himself for helping introduce Marie and the Duke. So much so in fact, that it took hours for him to notice her prominent absence among the children.
"Is Marie coming to help with the snowman?" a girl asked the little boy named Phillip.
"Nay, Alice. She was downright miserable coming back from the square."
Jack froze. Miserable? He resolved to discover why, floating up to her window, but she wasn't there.
"Hmm, I wonder where she could be."
Jack found her several minutes later and let out a happy chuckle. Marie was alone in the forest sculpting a Christmas tree in the snow. It was firmly packed snow, carved beautifully and intricately.
"Wow," Jack smirked. "That's pretty good."
Marie froze for a moment. "Is someone there?"
Jack halted instantly. "Can you – hear me?"
Marie eventually shrugged and shook her head. "Too much time in the snow, Marie. You must be hearing things."
Jack watched her in awe for a minute or two when, without warning, the girl burst into tears.
"What? What's wrong?" Jack leapt beside her, knowing she couldn't hear.
"Why did someone have to throw that snowball?" she wept bitterly next to her snow tree. "I don't want some old Duke courting me."
"Why not?" Jack retorted invisibly. "Every other girl in town would."
"I'm not every other girl!" Marie shouted, then fell still. "Oh, mercy, no one is talking to you, Caroline Marie. You must be going 'round the bend…" She ran away to the house, leaving an utterly perplexed Jack Frost in the forest.
"She heard me," he breathed in astonishment. "She really heard me."
The next morning Marie felt much better. She helped Phillip build a snowman and threw at least a dozen snowballs at unsuspecting passersby. With a gleam in her eye she headed to the forest to finish her snow sculpture.
She arrived at the snow tree beaming when a flurry of snowflakes twirled around her cloak.
"Ha," she cried happily, "It's like magic." Just then the snowflakes spun faster, the wind tugging at her cloak like little hands. "All right, snow. I won't fight; lead on."
She followed the wind deeper into the forest until she reached a figure made of solid ice.
"Wow," Marie breathed. It was an immaculately sculpted man, tall, lean, and with wild hair and wide eyes. His clothing was an odd smattering of worn pants and a strange thick shirt she'd never seen the likes of before. "Beautiful," she smiled, brushing the tips of her nails softly against the ice man's arm. "I wish you were real."
"But I am real!"
Marie froze. It was the same voice she'd heard the day before. Wide eyed, she peered slowly around the clearing, but no one was in sight. Biting her lip, she chose to dismiss the voice.
"Mama says I spend too much time in the snow—" Marie spoke in part to herself, wondering with the other part if someone else could hear. "—Perhaps she's right. Every time lose myself in the wonder of the snow it's as if I can hear someone close by."
The wind picked up, and snowflakes danced around her, and she smiled, continuing.
"It's as though the snow brings me closer to some unknown truth – beyond mere imagination." She touched the ice sculpture again, somewhat wistfully. "But I'm sixteen, and the Duke is calling this afternoon." A glazed look of sadness settled on her eyes. "Goodbye, friend. I wish I knew your name."
"Jack Frost, my name is Jack Frost," he leapt in front of the girl in vain. She stepped through his imperceptible figure and continued out of the forest.
"She heard me again, I know it," he sighed, chucking a rock at a nearby tree. "There's got to be a way for me to get through to her somehow."
Then an idea struck him like a snowball. "That's it!"
"What a strong impression ye've made on the Duke, my dear!" Marie's mother fawned over her the next morning. "Tis lucky for us he favors your free spirit."
"Aye," Marie agreed dully. "Tis fortune for us all."
Her mother's eyes narrowed. "Tis truth and don't ye go forgetting it. The house of Montagu would fare well from such a union."
"Aye, well, I'll be out for a bit."
"Not out into the snow again, little wean. You'll catch your death, and the Duke is coming over again this afternoon."
"I'll catch no such thing!" Marie pouted. "Let me have my winter, mama. It's all I have left."
She fled into the forest, hurriedly retracing her steps to the man made of ice.
"You're still here," she caught her breath heavily. "I was afraid you'd disappeared in the night."
She approached the figurine, tracing his arm again. "What's this?" She discovered an etching beneath the collar of his shirt. "This wasn't here yesterday." Her eyes widened as she translated the rune. "Jack Frost? Your name is Jack Frost?"
The snow swept merrily around her, and she grinned. "I'll take that as a yes." She could feel magic around her with the dancing snowflakes. "Even as a statue, you're more fun to be with than the Duke." She sat at the ice figure's feet. "After that incident with the snow ball I thought he'd have a much better sense of fun, but all he talks about are finances and horses and how he can't wait for summer."
The rustling of snow stopped.
"I'm just the opposite, I suppose. Winter is filled with such wonder and enchantment; I wish it would never end."
The silence was thick and tangible, as if the air was listening.
"I wish you were real, Jack," Marie whispered. "I'd dance with you, and have snowball fights, and make snow angels, and the Duke would just have to go on his merry way and court someone else." She chuckled to herself. "Jack Frost – What a perfect name you have…"
Jack listened to Marie in rapt silence. A strange thrumming echoed in his heart as he gazed at the beautiful girl.
"I'd dance with you too," he spoke into the wind several minutes later, long after she'd gone.
That night he walked by her house when the familiar golden strands of the Sandman's dreams trickled down from the sky.
"I wonder," he grinned at the dazzling thread of light entering Marie's window.
Jack leapt up the eaves and inched his way over to the golden stream of light. He hesitated for two seconds, then stuck his hand into the bright dust.
The golden figure of a man and woman danced across his brain.
"Dancing with the Duke – go figure."
The dazzling girl leaned more closely into the man's shoulder. "Oh, Jack," she whispered.
Jack felt a strange feverish tingling creep its way into his throat. She wasn't dancing with the Duke at all. "She's dancing with – me."
In a surge of impulsive desire Jack crept into the girl's room and sat by her bedside. He watched her smile and laugh in her sleep. Then Marie turned to her side, her hand shifting until it rested on Jack's hand.
Jack's heart nearly leapt from his chest. Marie's hand was touching his own. She believed in him.
He decided to try something he'd seen the girl's mother do once or twice. Leaning down until their faces were an inch apart he pressed his lips to her nose.
"Mama, you know I hate that," Marie mumbled in her sleep.
Jack chuckled, "I'm not your mother, Marie. I'm Jack Frost."
"Jack," Marie sighed happily in slumber. "I knew you'd come back."
Jack bent his face toward Marie's again. "I'll be here as long as you believe." Then his mouth touched to her lips softly.
Marie gasped awake from the strangest dream. She traced the bottom of her lip with the tip of her fingers. Then she touched her nose for several seconds. His lips had felt so real…
"Jack?" she whispered into the empty darkness of her room. Only a draft from the window greeted her voice. "Jack Frost…" Perhaps it had only been a dream after all.
Jack felt the warmth of her skin dissipate as Marie awoke. She sat up, moving right through his now invisible figure, leaving Jack feeling more alone and confused than ever.
"Jack?" Marie murmured in a desperate plea. "Jack Frost?"
"I'm here, Marie. I'm right here!" Jack shouted in front of her face, but her eyes went straight through to the wall.
Marie laid back down, looking hurt and puzzled. Jack could tell that she wanted to believe – she just wouldn't let go of her inhibitions.
Jack stayed by her side long after she'd fallen back asleep, but he still remained as invisible as ever. Then ghosting his lips across her forehead he whispered one last time. "I'll be here as long as you believe." And with a cheerless parting glance, he disappeared through the window, hoping one day she'd see him again.
Fifteen years later
"James, put on your cloak. It's quite a snowstorm today." The Duchess of Montrose wrapped her five-year old son in thick fabric.
"Mama, I shant need so much covering my face." The boy squirmed.
"Aye, you surely will son. Jack Frost is out today, and he just might nip off your nose if you're not careful," she grinned.
"Jack Frost? Who's that?"
"Why – he'll make you slip on the ice, throw a snowball in your face, and make you freeze to your bones—" she grinned before her expression turned wistful. "—but he's not all bad. He's the artist who paints frost on your trees and windows. He'll make the snowflakes and wind dance around you, and he's the best ice sculptor across the seven seas."
"But he'll nip at my nose." The boy looked perturbed.
"Oh yes," The duchess picked up her son and kissed him on the nose. "After all, he did it to me once…"
"Jack Frost nipped your nose?" The boy's eyes grew wide.
"Well—" the boy's mother flushed at the distant memory. "—in a manner of speaking."
The boy shook his head at his mother and bound off into the snow, anxious to tell his friends about the mysterious and mischievous Jack Frost.
Marie smiled as she watched him dash away toward his friends, and for the briefest instant she could have sworn she spotted someone else. A young man with a deep blue, hooded tunic, faded brown pants, white hair and bright blue eyes, crouched with snowball in hand.
"Jack," she breathed, a single tear falling from her eye. "I knew you'd come back."
Jack Frost grinned mischievously before vanishing down the road, and Marie knew someday – she'd see him again.
Sweet, fun, and a bit sad, but I hope you liked. Thanks for reading! -V